47. No Threat
no threat
Mirren
Well, he says he wants honesty. There’s honesty for him. From the look on his face, he’s surprised. Opening and closing his mouth like a fish, he simply nods and extends a plate to me.
How does he do this? I had next to nothing as far as ingredients and before me is a grilled sammie that looks like a freaking panini and pasta salad with extra olives.
“Olives?”
“Just don’t choke on them, okay?”
The snort that leaves me escapes without thought, and I cover my face. His hand covers mine to pull it away.
“I need to grab my clothes from Charlie’s or maybe hit the store and grab a few things. This”—he gestures to his towel—“won’t suffice with how your family operates.”
I shudder and take a bite of my pasta salad, fighting the moan that he whipped up something this good from the barren nothingness of my fridge.
“You aren’t lying. The whole popping-by thing has to stop, or they’re going to have to get real comfortable with things that make them very uncomfortable.
I probably have some oversized sweats you can borrow. ”
He looks at me with disbelief. “That’s a no, baby. No to wearing your clothes, even your sweats. And it’s a fuck no to wearing them to your brother’s house to pick up my bag.”
I look at the clock, an idea forming. “Trust me?” I ask, taking a huge bite of my sandwich.
“Absolutely.” His eyes are soft, and his lips tip at the corner. “But I’m going to throw some caveats on that in case you’re thinking of something too wicked for my Midwestern blood.”
I smirk and wag my eyebrows twice, leaving him to stew in that. “’Kay, I’m going to run to Charlie’s while he’s at work and grab your bag. Do you have toiletries scattered anyplace? Make yourself at home. I’ll stop on my way back and pick up groceries.”
He mutters something about feeling impotent under his breath.
“Oh, honey.” I caress his cheek. “I’ll fix that when I get home.”
“Why do I feel like you’re doing all the things, and I’m stuck here naked waiting on your return?”
“Because that’s what’s happening…?” I offer, tossing the last couple of bites into my mouth.
He slices his eyes to slits and swats my ass on the way out the door.
An hour later, I’m on my way home from Charlie’s, everything I need loaded into the SUV, when two pings come in almost simultaneously. The first is from Strider saying there’s a pulled and paid-for grocery order ready for curbside pickup.
The second is from Brody.
Uncle Alpha
Call me now.
Well, this was bound to happen sooner or later.
I dial and wait for the tongue lashing that’s sure to come… and not the kind I like from my man at home.
“Jones?”
“Hey, Brody.”
“Don’t hey Brody me. You have a suspect in your apartment.”
Oh that. Whew! It would be way worse if he knew what I was planning in Texas. “I told you I had a personal relationship with Strider Anderson.”
“You didn’t exactly mention you were sleeping with him.”
“Because it’s no one’s business who I sleep with, Daxton. That includes my employers.”
“It is when he’s a suspected domestic terrorist.” His voice rises to a painful decibel in my vehicle.
“Even then, it is not.” I emphasize every word. “And he is a terrorist as much as I am.”
“It’s you that put that label on yourself. Remember that!”
Don’t threaten me, Brody. “I earned my tab, Daxton,” I seethe. “Through blood and sweat. Through pain. More than you will ever know. Be careful calling a veteran a terrorist, or you’ll learn the true meaning of the word.”
“Did you just threaten me, Jones?” His voice is cold, lethal.
“No threat. Just truth. Now, as I’m on leave and not in your current employ…” I disconnect the call, swinging into the store parking lot to pick up my groceries.
Strider
Something’s wrong. Despite Mirren’s assertions, things are very, very wrong. Groceries put away and finally dressed, I take her hand, sliding her phone from her white-knuckled palm, and place it on her entry table. I do the same with mine.
“Come for a walk with me.” I tug her toward the front door.
“What—the miles this morning weren’t enough for you? There are better ways to burn off energy, you know?”
“I’ll let you show me, Freckles… later.” I put a finger to my mouth in a shhh gesture and lead us out the door.
Down the stairs, over the driveway, onto the sidewalk, and around the corner we go. When we’re halfway down the side street, I say to the night sky, “We’re out of range—at least I’m assuming—of any recording devices. Right?”
She nods, facing straight ahead, and continues our slow pace.
“Mardi Gras started in Mobile?”
Again, she nods.
“And you don’t want to talk about your job?”
“With computers and phones, we’re always being surveilled. Between my career and your what-shall-we-call-it connection to domestic terrorism, we should assume ears and eyes on us.”
Through gritted teeth, I spit out, “I am not connected to domestic terrorism.”
“Your business is. I don’t know how or where and digging in will set off more alarm bells than either of us can afford, but there’s a string there, and someone’s pulling it.”
“And that’s why you’re wound so tight?”
“Two things really. The first is the lesser worry. My handler is upset that you’re here and we’re together.”
“He doesn’t get a vote.” I turn her to face me. “You get a vote. I get one. That man does not.”
Planting her face in my chest, she nods. “I know. He knows that now too. Things got… heated.”
Tilting her face up to mine, I peer down at her. “And the bigger thing?”
“I need to do an op, unofficially, with unknown backup in the next couple of weeks. Someone is threatening to take down the Texas power grid. It’s a practice run for the U.S.
grid. They’re going to be onsite, for reasons unknown.
” She shakes her head. “It’s so stupid. One, because they don’t need to be there.
Sadly, it can be done remotely with much less risk.
And two, they’ll be stuck which gives me an opportunity to make sure they don’t get away.
The whole thing is bad. It reeks of trouble, but it’s going to happen with or without me, and I can’t let it happen at all. ”
The problems that could arise assault me in a deluge. “I don’t like this.”
“I don’t either. But it would be easier if Daxton wasn’t being so ridiculous.” She practically pouts, though I don’t know that that word or expression is in her repertoire.
“Do you need this Daxton at your back?”
She shrugs and shakes her head. “Not really, but I’d rather he know than make an assumption.”
“Because his assumption is that you’d be doing it on my behalf? Does he know you at all?”
“Apparently not. Regardless of his misguided notions, I’ll be cleared. ‘Going down’ with the perps wouldn’t be that bad as long as I’m released quickly. Besides, I’ve known worse.”
“Not making me feel better, Freckles.” I place a kiss on her forehead. “Now, how should I act when we’re in your apartment or near our phones?”
“Just be yourself. But you don’t know about my job. Or Mom’s at all.”
“Or your dad.”
“Well, my dad’s former career.” She turns and leads me down the street. “Dad’s great, by the way.” She tilts her head to catch my gaze. “You’ll love him, and he’ll love you.”
“And me moving in with you won’t be a thing for him?”
“No.” Her voice is quiet, her words matching her head shaking. “He wants me happy. You make me happy. That’s all he’ll care about. That said, he’ll give you a little shit just because that’s who he is.”
Great. Another Jones giving me shit. “I look forward to it.” It’s not a lie, but it’s not exactly the whole truth either.